Alfred knows he's being watched...but he finds that he really doesn't mind, a bit to his surprise. His hands are something he's always been a little embarrassed about, if he's really honest. They're the roughest thing on him, callused and coarse from work, from whittling stakes, from cuts and scrapes he never had time to properly bandage. The least he can do is keep his nails neat.

"I like doing that," he murmurs, pursing his lips for a moment as he adjusts the colors in the painting's irises. "Something about it is really...calming, for me. I like quiet things like that, I think."